And when Moses came down from the Mount Sinai, he held the two tables of the testimony, and he knew not that his face was horned from the conversation of the Lord [Exodus 34:29, Vulgate Bible, English translation, emphasis added].
Moses came down from Mountain Sinai. As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God [Exodus 34-29, NRSV, emphasis added].
As many of you know, Michelangelo’s statue of Moses, housed in St. Peter’s Basilica, has an unusual “feature.” I’ve never been to Rome, so I have not seen the famous sculpture in person, but the feature is clearly shown in many photographs that one can easily find on the Internet. When the great master carved the figure, he gave Moses horns. Contrary to the thoughts of some, Michelangelo wasn’t trying to denigrate Moses. Rather, Moses’ “feature” is the result of a difficult translation issue in the story of the lawgiver’s descent from Mount Sinai—the story we might caption “The Ten Commandments, version 2.0.”
We’ll recall that the first set of tablets was crafted by God during a 40-day editing session in which Moses was with Yahweh on the mountain [see Exodus 32]. We’ll also remember that because Moses was absent for such an extended period, the Israelites, fearing he was dead, convinced Aaron to melt down some of the gold that they had “gleaned” from Egypt, and craft for them a golden calf, that they might worship it. Moses, angered by the sight of the idol, threw down the first set of tablets and broke them, prompting the need for version 2.0.
Because this upcoming Sunday, the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday, is Transfiguration Sunday in many of our churches, the OT reading featuring Moses descent from the mountain with the second set of tablets in his arms [Exodus 34:29-35, RCL, Year C], pairs well with this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a), Luke’s version of the prominent mountain Transfiguration scene featuring Jesus, Moses and Elijah, witnessed by Peter, James, and John.
Let’s move back to the translational issue in Exodus 34:29. You see, when the author of Exodus (i.e., Moses) describes his own countenance upon his return to the Israelites, he uses the Hebrew word “qā·ran.” OT scholars note that when the first five books of the Hebrew Bible—the Torah, a/k/a the Pentateuch—were translated from the ancient Hebrew to Greek in the mid-3rd century, B.C.E. (Before the Common Era), the 70 ancient translators inserted the Greek word for “shine” when they described the face of Moses in verse 29. That translation carries over into a number of modern translations. To those of us who “do” neither Hebrew nor Greek, that seems all and good. Moses’ face no doubt had a shining appearance, based upon his earlier proximity to—and interaction with—Yahweh on the mountain.
But here’s the rub: OT scholars note that in the several other instances in which the Hebrew word “qā·ran” is used in the OT text, its conventional meaning is translated as “horned,” not “shone.” When the 70 scholars translated the Hebrew version of Exodus into Greek, they no doubt came up with the phraseology that Moses meant; it was not, however, the phraseology that Moses had actually used. They reasoned that his face must have “shone.”
But later, around 400 A.D., when St. Jerome translated what would come to be known as the Vulgate Bible (Latin), he used—for his OT work—the original Hebrew, and not the Greek Septuagint. Jerome’s translation, therefore, translated “qā·ran” as “horned,” rather than “shone.” We know that Michelangelo used the Vulgate Bible as his inspiration for Moses. And so, that’s why the statue has horns. As Paul Harvey would say, “Now you know the rest of the story.”
Or do you? Oh, I’m sure that the 70 Greek translators had it right, that Moses’ face was shining as he descended from the mountain, but I also wonder if Moses’ use of the Hebrew “qā·ran” wasn’t purposeful, since it provides such a rich double entendre. It is as if Moses, looking at the golden calf crafted by Aaron on behalf of the Israelites, was thinking, “You Israelites want something shiny, with horns? Well, how about me?”
I think Moses was also trying to tell the Israelites— and, therefore, us—that when it comes to worship, God wants us to gather around something—no, around someone—who is alive. We are not to center our spiritual lives around something that isn’t. Although Moses clearly did not see himself as an object of worship, he was their high priest. He had been appointed by Yahweh as their literal and spiritual guardian. He cared for them. He had sacrificed for them; he had led them out of bondage. He was devoted to God and to the people’s deliverance from Egypt into Canaan. And, unlike the golden calf, Moses was alive.
I suppose we shouldn’t be too hard on the Israelites. Humanity, after all, has always gone after shiny objects. To be sure, we generally aren’t as straightforward about it as were the Israelites. That is to say that we don’t often melt down our jewelry and fashion an idol that we can bow and worship on Sundays. Indeed, our “shiny” object often isn’t shiny at all; it’s just really nice and special. It makes us feel good.
It might be a four-bedroom, four and one-half bath brick residence in Hope Valley, a cute, but over-priced, bungalow in Trinity Park, or the new, black Jaguar in the driveway. It can also be the 401(k), carefully and skillfully managed by Fidelity or TIAA, the cozy chalet near Banner Elk, the rare coin collection, or the custom closet that “houses” a splendid wardrobe. Typically, its acquisition has been costly, but one thing is sure: it isn’t alive.
It needn’t always be tangible. Our attention and devotion might be directed to a political cause, or to some form of virtue signaling, or to “my career.” Or it might be devotion to leisurely Sunday mornings with bagels and the Times. I run the risk of losing you as I move further away from the original golden calf, but the Exodus text reminds us that humanity has a short attention span. There is surely a part within us that wants to follow the lawgiver, but sometimes we just get impatient for something else, something attainable. Sometimes, we just prefer something that makes us feel good, or secure, or necessary, particularly if “it” makes few demands upon us or, to the extent that some demands are made, those demands are well within our control, and easily within the level of risks that we consent to take on.
We consent to the idol; we long for the idol because we think that we can control or manage it. Managing a lively leader is a horse of a different color. The active leader—the leader who is truly alive—might want us to reach beyond ourselves. We might be required to grow and go toward unknown and uncomfortable places.
This Sunday—Transfiguration Sunday—we encounter the One who is utterly uncontrollable, utterly alive. He beckons us forward to relationship with Him and with each other. He calls his church to become His body—the Body of Christ. His body is dynamic, active, energetic, and most of all, alive! To be alive in Christ is to have new, vibrant definition. To be alive in Christ is to recognize His call to love God and love neighbor, to take up our cross daily and follow where He leads. The golden calf won’t lead us anywhere.
As Bonhoeffer teaches, when Christ calls a man or a woman, He bids us to come and die. Only then can we truly be alive!
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